


another ending

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arturia treatment for Arjuna, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Rule 63 Arjuna, UST, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: "Once, there was a warrior, and another warrior standing in his path. Once, there was a warrior, and his rival revealed her true identity in front of everyone, then carried her away to his gilded palace. Once, there was a warrior, and she was forced into committing a sin to free herself from a love she couldn’t bear, a man who has become something she couldn’t believe in, and a song of the gods that she couldn’t sing anymore.Once, there was a warrior, a prince—and she fell in love."Five times Arjuna intended bodily harm to Karna Alter in Chaldea. AU where Karna defeated Arjuna.





	another ending

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of simplicity, and since this is an AU, "Karna" will refer to Karna Alter, and yes, he manifested as a Rider-class Servant. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**IN THE PAST—**

She’d been called the Shining Hero, the Prince of Heroes, the Hero of the Blessed. Endowed with a good life and the promising, fiery life of a high caste warrior, she’d overcome many trials, endured a lot of obstacles, and triumphed over many. _It doesn’t matter that you’re a woman_ , her mother whispered to her, clutching her close, when she was still too little to understand, _they shall never know_. 

_But they know, mother_ , was her first thought when _he_ exposed her, he of the shining sun, of the once-blessed flames, _they know now_. 

Then he carried her away to his palace.

* * *

**BEFORE 2018 AD—**

She was finally summoned before a Master, a Master that had fought alongside her, in a distant country that is not hers. She makes no pretensions any longer about her gender, because he’d known about it—he and that bespectacled Demi-Servant of his—but still, Arjuna detected lines of surprise in his mouth, in the small lines of his face that most would miss. She was summoned as she was before she was defeated and carried away, a shining hero of the Archer class, not the silent killer she was in the aftermath, not her regret, but a part of her felt like she was—still—tarnished forever. As if all the thunderstorms in the world could not cleanse her. But she tried to be optimistic nevertheless, although it is not in her disposition to do so.

“Welcome back, Arjuna,” her Master finally said, smiling—a boy too young for his age and yet his eyes are as old as the Heroic Spirits he summoned to this sterile place he now calls home, “it’s good to see you again. Welcome to Chaldea.”

“And you, Master,” she responded, carefully stepping out of the summoning circle. “I plead my bow to you,” she told him, smiling only sparingly, wryly.

“Ah, we’ve prepared a room for you,” the Demi-Servant said, a lot cooler than her— _their_ —Master, but more of a matter of temperament than any visible or deep-seated sentiments. “It’s this way, if you’d please.”

“Thank you,” Arjuna said, bowing her head just enough. 

“Make yourself at home here,” her new Master said, with all the innocence of a world-weary boy.

* * *

**THE SUMMONING—**

“Arjuna, come with me,” her Master suddenly said, appearing in the doorway to her room—she could actually hear his footsteps before he arrived, far before he arrived—alone, looking just a little bit harried. “Please,” he added, and Arjuna couldn’t help but smiled, privately. It seems like the boy has learnt that she was a particularly prideful creature, especially considering her greatness compared to him. Although, she added privately, he’d wrestled a couple of Grails off the Grand Caster. That counts, too. Of course, she’d never admit that, especially not to his face, and not to mention the fact that she had been growing somewhat fond of him, despite his flaws.

“Of course, Master,” she said, calmly detaching herself from the book she was reading and was ready momentarily, bow in hand. “Let’s go.”

Ritsuka seemed slightly surprised that she was ready already, but nodded and beckoned at her to follow him. “This way.”

He carried her to the summoning room, in which it was Arjuna’s turn to feel more than slightly surprised. It’s not odd for the Master to carry one—or a couple—of Servants to the summoning room, for one reason or another—be as it may, Ritsuka _could_ be a puzzle sometimes—but she’d never been called before this, and looking around, it seems she was the only one. 

“I was hoping to summon a particular Hero,” Ritsuka admitted, with a somewhat boyish smile. Arjuna returned it with a raised eyebrow. She wondered who it could be, though she had a few candidates in mind, but didn’t say anything. She simply nodded at him.

“Then summon them,” she said, “I’ll be here, Master.”

“Yes,” he said, staring at her awkwardly for a moment before turning his attention towards the Summoning Circle. “I’ll start the ritual now.”

She stood back, watching her Master recited the familiar words, watching as the Circle glows blue with power, but at the last moment, Ritsuka pulled her closer by the hand, to her surprise, and she narrows her eyes at him. 

“Ah, Master,” said the Servant who appeared in the Circle, “it’s _so_ good to see you again,” he said, his dark, luxurious fur coat spreads out behind him, turning slightly towards Arjuna, “and oh, who is this? A familiar face.”

Arjuna’s face changed from surprise to that of abject disgust. To think that _this_ was the Servant her Master pulled out from the Throne…she wanted to throw up. Moreover, she wanted to pummel her fists on him until he _bleeds_. However, she tried to compose herself, and it looked like her Master was just as surprised as her. Apparently, _he_ was not who he expected, either. 

“Karna,” her Master named him, breaking the silence. His new Servant—corrupted as he was—smiled smugly, as if expecting Ritsuka to bow down to him, despite the contract. “I wasn’t— well, I wasn’t expecting you to manifest as the Rider-class—“

“I know,” Karna cuts him off, and Arjuna glared at him. “You wasn’t expecting _me_ in particular. It’s unfashionable, admit it. You wanted the other me. And you—“ he turned towards Arjuna, and for a moment she could glimpse the abject satisfaction on his face, although a part of her was glad that his eyes weren’t red. No Madness Enhancement at work this time. “You were here as catalyst. To summon who I am before I turned into… _this_.” he gestured at himself broadly.

“Well, yes and no, Ritsuka said blandly, diplomatically, “you’re still welcome at Chaldea, nevertheless. Welcome.”

“Admit it,” the man who was once Karna said, baring his teeth, “you didn’t want me. Nobody did.”

“That’s enough,” Arjuna cuts him off, stepping between them, bow at the ready. “One more word and I’ll fire my Agni Gandiva through your gut.”

“ _You_ , little dove?” he sneered in return, and Arjuna half-expected him to draw his own bow. “Summoned again as a mighty Archer, aren’t you? That could be considered a success. Although—“

Arjuna pulled the string and fired an arrow to his side, which narrowly misses him on purpose. “Quiet,” she hissed, “one more word and I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, are you going to?” Karna said, his eyes glinting with bloodlust and challenge. “Aw, I’m so scared. You’re killing me in broad daylight _at last_ , although there’s no telling, in this concrete structure. Are you going to use your bow and arrow, or do you have a knife hidden on your person somewhere, _Archer_?”

Before she knows it, she already moved, drawing one arrow from her quiver, raising it as if it was a knife, “ _You_ —“

“Enough!” Ritsuka yells, and Arjuna realises that she was gripping the front of Rider’s coat—she still refused to think of him as Karna, even after all of this time—and was raising her arrow to pierce it through his gut manually, while he was smiling provocatively, challenging her openly. “By this Command Spell,” their Master continued, bringing the back of his left hand into view, “I command you to step back, Arjuna.”

Arjuna could feel her hands—and herself—moving automatically away from Karna, drawing herself off of him. She felt thunderous anger inside of her, simmering quietly, glowering at Ritsuka for interrupting them, for Karna was—once more—smiling smugly, this time with a triumphant underneath. Arjuna couldn’t hate him more even if she tried. But she tried to contain herself, to regain her composure as a warrior and a Hero. Something more than this man is.

“I’m sorry— Karna—“ her— _their_ —Master said, and she heard it only vaguely, over the drumming sound of her own pulse, over the angry humming in her veins. “Arjuna, go to your room. I’ll sort the rest from here. Both of you,” he quickly added, before any of them could get a word in edgewise, “please cease from further hostilities. Don’t worry, I won’t place you close to each other, quarter-wise. But other than that—“ steel glinted in the dark eyes of the boy who was their Master, “—stop it. Or I’ll be forced to use my Command Seals.”

“But of course, Master,” Rider answered first, a false smile spreading across his lips. “I am your loyal and most trusted Servant. At your service,”

Arjuna wanted to rip the smile off his face, but Ritsuka has already motioned at her to exit the room. “I won’t cause any more trouble for you,” the other Servant in the room continued, as Arjuna was about to exit the room. “I won’t confront her or try to kill her. Try to get her to do the same.”

Arjuna whirled around to say something biting, something necessary, but the pleading look in Ritsuka’s eyes makes her bite her tongue. “Very well, Master,” she finally said, ignoring Karna, “it would be as you wish. I will take my leave now.”

“Thank you, Arjuna,” Ritsuka said, with palpable relief. Arjuna gave him a small smile, and move to exit the room. But she made a mistake of looking back—looking at the dark Servant newly summoned—one more time, and she wished she hadn’t.

The haughty look in Karna’s eyes tells her that this wouldn’t be the last time, and that she was still his.

* * *

**A FATED ENCOUNTER—**

Around two weeks passed without an incident, but Arjuna is as ready as ever, even when her Master left her behind to go on missions—which he rarely did, but there are so many Servants that Arjuna was left to believe that he had a roster of some sort—and that day, she believed, was snowing, as it so often did—windows are some sort of a privilege in Chaldea, but they existed, here and there, and she liked looking out of them every now and then, absently wondering if her country still existed somehow, somewhere out there, and if so, how it would look like—when she met the offender again. 

She was going to the archery training room when she bumped into him.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his coat impeccable, his orange-gold eyes shining with gleeful malice, “look who’s here.”

Arjuna refused to acknowledge him, and she remembered her Master’s orders, so she steadfastly ignored his presence and tried to sidestep him. Unfortunately for her, he’d foreseen that and blocks her way, smirking infuriatingly.

“Where are you going, little dove? I believe we’ve had unfinished business,” he said, blocking her way as steadfastly as she was ignoring him, and in the end, she was forced to acknowledge him and his infuriating existence in Chaldea (and in general).

“Rider,” Arjuna said, flatly, meeting his gaze but giving away nothing, “move aside. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Now,” Karna said, putting a friendly hand on her shoulder, which rewarded him with a glare from Arjuna, “we’ve had too much history together for you to call me that, haven’t we? Call me by my name, please,” he narrowed his eyes, briefly. “My _true_ name.”

“You are not him,” Arjuna stated, her tone betraying nothing, “you’re just an abnormality existing temporarily, thanks to the Holy Grail War. I am not obligated to talk to you nor _answer_ to you. Now move aside.”

Karna laughs, a deep, roaring laugh, and Arjuna—although she felt abject surprise—merely stares at him, as if he’d suddenly grown two more heads. When he was done laughing, there was something else in his eyes, glinting like a golden knife. “What pretty lies you believed in. I wonder how many times you told yourself that, just so you could sleep soundly at night,” he raised an eyebrow, smiling triumphantly, “you _adored_ him all that much, don’t you?”

“You _fucking_ —“ Arjuna said, raising her voice, taking an arrow from her quiver, already aiming for his heart. Karna, for all his predicament, merely offered her an amused smile, and Arjuna felt her hands quivering already, her bow singing, calling for her to shoot this bastard.

“Now, now,” Karna said, raising his palms, “there’s no need to get all hostile. Remember Master’s orders? I believe it’s still in effect even when he’s not around. And,” he added, sneaking closer, pushing aside her raised bow, nails digging under her chin, forcing her to look at him, “remember who you belonged to, _woman_. I defeated you in battle,” he continued, haughtily, and Arjuna could feel herself shaking with anger, both at the memory and the manner in which he said it, bringing it back to life and preventing her from forgetting, “I revealed your true identity to the world. I won you fair and square. Is that how you’re going to talk to me?”

“Let’s see if you could defeat me in battle again,” she said, staring at him defiantly. “Summon your bow. We’ll have a match. And this time, _I’m_ going to show you what a _true_ hero can do. Karna,” she spat out his name like it was poison, and it was, killing her slowly from the inside out. She’d never know him much in life, but she remembered tales about his charitable deeds—even if he was a Kaurava—and his heroic endeavours. She remembered him in the last battle, still the shining hero, before his anger and resentment had finally taken over him.

She remembered. And so did he, from the look in his eyes. He released her, swiftly going outside her reach. Arjuna could still feel his touch on her chin, and if she closed her eyes, she could remember their last kiss together in _that_ life, but she gave no ground to her emotions. Instead, she looked at him, challengingly. 

“Very well,” Karna said, and a moment later, a shining golden bow appeared in his hands, a marked contrast to his dark outfit, but it matched his golden earring. “I accept your challenge, Arjuna of the Pandavas. We will compete as men,” he said, and Arjuna raised her chin, narrowing her eyes at him, as he gave her a brilliant smile, “but the winner may do or ask whatever they want of the loser. May the best man, no, _hero_ , wins.”

“May the best hero wins,” she echoed, and with that, they are off to the archery training room. It was deserted at this hour, thankfully. 

The match was a short one, and to her—eternal and enduring—surprise, she lost. It was nearly a draw, but she lost, and she doesn’t know why. She gripped her bow as if it was the only thing that left her standing, and she replayed the entire match in her head, trying to find out why she lost. 

Her reverie was broken by Karna’s voice, his smile now appropriate—which Arjuna hated even more—and she was forced to listen to him, since they were bound by an agreement. “Well,” Karna said, casually striding to her direction, “that was a short one, wasn’t it? If that’s all a true hero can do, then—“

“Shut up,” Arjuna told him, with all the force she could muster. She felt like stabbing him with an arrow again, and judging from the situation, she just might. “You win. I acknowledge that, Rider. But further humiliation is not necessary. Now, tell me what you want.”

Karna raised an eyebrow again, amused. “You’re right. It’s not. But I do enjoy teasing you, little dove. You are so beautiful when you’re angry,” he said, and Arjuna could feel heat rising up to her cheeks, “I missed our days together in the palace,” he cooed, and once more, Arjuna felt his fingers on her chin, softer this time, softened by both nostalgia and something else, something alien that she couldn’t put a finger on, even after all this time, “now let me tell you what I want.”

“I- I-“ she tried to come up with something angry, biting, but she found out that her words evaporated as soon as she tried to speak. She could feel blood rushing to her cheeks, her nipples pressing urgently against her inner tunic, and their bodies are pressed much too close together—

He cupped her face and kissed her, full on the mouth, and for a moment, Arjuna lost sense of everything else. It wasn’t them together again, no, she’d never acknowledge that, but it was the heat from Karna’s mouth and the urgency in which he kissed her, as if there’s no tomorrow or yesterday, only this moment, and Arjuna only realised when it’s too late that she kissed him back, just as urgently, chest pressing against his, and that she’d let out a small, needy whine. 

When Karna pulled back, it was as if a part of her went missing again, as if she’d broken her own heart all over again when she stabbed him to death.

Karna, however, smiled at her, just as smug as he always was, in this incarnation—he truly _was_ the Avatar of Greed—wiping his mouth as if the kiss was nothing. For that offence alone, Arjuna wanted to kill him. 

“That,” he said, much too soft, “is what I wanted.”

“You—“

Karna pressed a delicate finger to her lips, and she wanted to suck on it, wanted to lick it as if it was his length, anything to taste more of him. But she managed to regain control of herself. “I know you wanted to forget this, so now I’ll leave,” he said, smiling brightly, and a part of her was happy with his declaration—relieved—but for the most part she thought: _don’t go, don’t go_ , “you can pretend you win, little dove. It’s alright.”

She was still speechless, wordless, breath caught in her throat, and he slipped out of the room, yet the taste of him was still in her mouth—eternal, enduring, unyielding. 

The sun, very rarely, lies.

* * *

**NOT YOURS—**

She thought she was handling it quite gracefully. It was the so-called King of Heroes, and, in modern terms, he was making a pass on her, or, in other words, flattering her femininity in words that makes Arjuna wants to shoot an arrow through his heart. What makes her blood boil, though, was the way he compared her to the King of Knights, and concluded that no matter what, she is inferior to her—a comment that nearly sent her fists flying. Arjuna does not take well being compared to anyone. As a warrior and a prince, she stood by her own merit—and she told him as much.

That is, until _he_ comes along—since this was in the mess hall, an invention of their Master, something that’s actually unnecessary for them Servants—swaggering in as much as Gilgamesh did, grinning from ear to ear when he proclaims it.

“You can’t claim that, o great King Heroes,” he said, and, gesturing at her, “and _that_ ,” he continued, accompanied by a very lewd, very unmistakably male gesture, “belongs to mine and me. And I’m not one for sharing, unlike her brothers.”

Gilgamesh laughed, surprisingly, an amused laugh, and Arjuna shot both of them a murderous look. “I do _not_ belong to anyone,” she countered, surprised by her own calmness, even if her fingers already started fingering her arrows, “and this conversation is very disrespectful. I will choose to ignore it.”

She doesn’t even bother to part them or glare more daggers at them or wish them a good day sarcastically, she just turned away and left the room, but she knows Karna is tailing her. She just chose to ignore him.

“Wait, Juna,” he called out, and she turned around and, in one graceful move, shot an arrow that barely missed him. 

“I don’t appreciate _you_ calling me that, Rider,” she said, and shot another arrow, this time not bothering to miss, but Karna dodged it like it was nothing, “and I don’t appreciate you butting into my conversation earlier.”

Karna smirks and Arjuna didn’t hold herself back—she fired another arrow. Karna rolled aside to dodge it. “Even if I did that to save you from further humiliation?”

“You,” she said, and she notched an arrow and aimed it at his head, “ _are_ humiliating me back there. Is that your definition of ‘saving’? Because I believed that it might be skewed.”

Karna grins, and Arjuna fired another arrow. He, unfortunately, dodges that one too—Arjuna curses under her breath—and another. “I know you’re not a delicate flower, Juna,” he said, and Arjuna doesn’t care that he’s now inside her personal range and that it’s no longer logical to shoot him, she did it anyway, which, again, didn’t find its mark, “but you still need protecting.”

“Who decided that?” Arjuna blurted out, her hands started shaking, and she could feel Karna’s hand on hers, his other hand pushing her insistently backwards by the shoulder. “You?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the charade didn’t last long, because she could feel herself being pinned to the wall and, like the last time, their lips met, more insistently this time. She felt Karna’s other hand going inside the slit of her dress, tracing her curves until she moaned, needy and insistent, in his mouth, and she kissed him back, pulling him closer by his coat, wanting nothing more but to pull it off him.

Still, they were in a public place, and anyone—any Servant, even their Master—could catch them anytime. Arjuna could feel her breath hitching at the thought, but wrapped her legs around his narrow hips underneath the fur coat anyways, pulling him even closer, teasing his length.

“The gods,” he whispered in her ear, low and hoarse, giving her goosebumps, caressing her cheek softly, like lovers do, “the gods have decided that long ago.”

Arjuna didn’t have it in her to argue. She kissed him, again, persistently, passionately, while his hands stroked her breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of her clothes just as insistent as the kisses and the touches they shared, and she guided his hands to them, moaning.

She knew he was getting hard, and she wanted nothing more but him, pressed against her, their enmity and past forgotten, only their bodies, supple against each other, and the taste of him, forbidden, eternal, unyielding. 

Yet, he pulled away, breathing hard, and when Arjuna tried pulling him back, he caught her by the hands. “Not yet, little dove,” he said, with a roguish smile that makes Arjuna, once more, hated him with every fibre of her being, “you hadn’t yet earned it. And besides, aren’t you afraid of getting caught? Or…is that turning you on? I wonder.”

Arjuna, like him, was still breathing heavily, her head in the clouds, though she quickly regained her senses. “ _You_ ,” she said, sharply, “You _bastard_. I will kill you.” 

“I have no doubt that you will,” Karna said, smiling rakishly, but there was a hollowness to it, a certain kind of sadness that only she herself, Arjuna, could pinpoint, “for now, farewell.”

“Wait, I-“

He disappeared into tiny black flakes—spirit mode was supposedly forbidden in Chaldea to encourage bonding with each other, or something, although some Servants frequently broke the rule and Arjuna suspected that Karna was one of them—and was gone in seconds. 

She was left alone in the corridor, sterile and empty, her clothes in disarray, the sun going down over a clear, snowy landscape over the alien land outside the window.

She raised a finger to her lips, and tasted his yearning.

* * *

**A CONFESSION—**

She decided to confront him.

It wasn’t personal, no, it was _professional_ —she couldn’t bear the thought of someone out there knowing her only regret in life, not to mention that their shared past was a thorn on her side. If necessary, she would challenge him into another match—death matches are banned in Chaldea but they could probably afford to break a few rules—and with it, hopefully regain both her honour and dignity.

And yes, sanity, as well, because she couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as she prayed and prayed to the gods, and increased her training regiment. Her Master wondered about the latter, but thankfully left her alone. That means only one person to effectively remove. 

He was leaning on the doorway to his quarters, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, as if he was waiting for her. As if he knows.

“Ah, my thunderbird,” he said, uncrossing his arms, opening his eyes and tilting his head slightly towards her, as she marched her way in his direction. “You’re here for something,”

“That’s right,” Arjuna said, crossing her arms over her chest, keeping a friendly distance between them. “I’m here to talk to you about something, Rider.”

“Well,” Karna said, his smile turning into something…suggestible, something that makes Arjuna’s blood boil, “my quarter’s empty. Why don’t we talk in my quarters, if it’s something important?”

He never asks _do you mind_ or anything of the like, and Arjuna had already regretted coming all the way here and trying to talk to him, but she forced herself to remain calm. The more she became angry and murderous, she thought, the more she fell into his trap. “It _is_ important,” she asserted, uncrossing her arms and taking a step forward, “but it’s not what you think it is. Let’s go, before I changed my mind.”

His quarters are indeed devoid of any other denizens other than them, but there are traces here and there that suggested that last night—or somewhere in the past few days, she doesn’t know and doesn’t care enough—there was somebody else there. And there was something about the room…it was full of his energy, his presence, the way he anchors himself in Chaldea, and she supposes her quarters are the same.

She doesn’t like it. There was something dark and merciless about it, something that reminded her of a sun going supernova.

“So let’s _talk_ ,” Karna says, plopping himself by the side of his bed, only slightly sarcastic, but his gaze was serious. “Go on. Start. Make yourself comfortable, Juna.”

She flinched again at the sound of her nickname, the affectionate way that he said it, like lovers do. She doesn’t like him—doesn’t like his existence—and yet…and yet. She dared herself to steel her gaze, after sitting herself down in an empty chair opposite him on the bed. She wasn’t going to sit beside him there, no matter what he says.

“This is nothing personal,” she started, smoothly, smoothing herself in the process, too, and Karna raised an eyebrow, already amused, “but if you noticed the events of the past few weeks and before that…well.”

“Well?” Karna said, only the slightest trace of mockery in his silky voice.

“Forget about them,” she said, her gaze steel, but holding herself back from touching her braid nervously, “I recognised that we have a shared past, Karna, but I…do not want to be bound by it any longer. For the sake of the gods, as well as my sake. I suggest you forget about them,” she continued, raising her voice sharply, “or else.”

“Why, that’s a little hard,” Karna responded, after a certain amount of silence—she’d never felt this nervous before, although she hoped that it didn’t show—running his fingers through his red hair. “For one, I won you fair and square by the laws of the land and the laws of the gods,” he grinned, but then turning more serious, “but other than that, you do understand that our fates are deeply intertwined, right? Where you go, I go, and vice versa. It’s quite literally impossible to defy it, and I know you’re not the person who will defy fate.”

“And you _are_?” Arjuna said, not caring that her voice cuts through the air like her arrows. 

“Here I am, right?” he said, gesturing at himself. “At least _I_ have the courage to stray from the path that fate has ordained for me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And took me along with you. Karna—if you are still Karna, somewhere inside—answer me this, truthfully: do you love me?”

“Yes,” he said, quicker than she expected, softer than a man such as him—such as what he had become—had any right to be. “Yes, I do love you, Juna. Even until the very end.”

She felt— she doesn’t know how she felt. There was anguish, and fear, and yearning, but most of all— she wanted him. She wanted the man who sat opposite her, even if it was forbidden, even if she’d prayed to the gods a million times to make her stop loving him. Loving him was poison, was poisonous, and it was eating her from the inside out. She could feel her throat becoming a prison for her words, and the breath she was going to take.

“That was my-“ she choked out, and she felt him coming closer, no, _crawling_ closer, “-my only regret,” she manages, as he was on his knees before her, reaching out with his hands to her face, cupping it again like he did all those weeks ago, in the hallway. 

“I know, Juna,” Karna said, ever so softly, and if she closed her eyes, she could see him as the shining hero he once was, red and gold, brilliant blue in his eyes, not the odd orange-gold that was looking at her—but looking at her in the same way, nevertheless—and she could feel tears, threatening to come out. “But you have room for improvement in terms of your stabbing skills.”

She manages a faint smile. “You son of a bitch,” she said, and their lips met once, twice, “that knife was the only one I could think about. A fruit knife wouldn’t kill you, would it?”

“But you did,” he breathed, and she wrapped her arms around his hips, pulling him closer, “you are killing me again. You always leave me breathless,”

She snorted, pulling him to her lap, and he put a hand on the chair near her head, balancing himself, as their lips meet again. “Just stop with the clichéness already,”

He kissed her neck, sucking in just deep enough to leave a mark, his teeth nibbling at her in a way that elicited a gasp from her. She pulled down his fur coat with her free hand, insistently, and he marked her again. “A- and that,” she moaned, “Karna- ah- just stop already-“

He pulled back, just enough for him to give her a rakish smile. “Do you really want me to stop, Juna?” he teased, his lips on her neck, his fingers teasing her nipple, and she parted her legs for him, “you liked being marked, don’t you? A prideful woman like you,” he said, his tongue lapping on her skin, hand now reaching between her legs, “of course you actually liked submitting to a man like me.”

She wanted to voice her doubt, but what came out was incoherent moans, and she could feel heat rising to her cheeks, and gods, she wanted him so bad. She let him kiss her senseless, feeling his warm hands undressing her, slowly, reverently, as if she was a goddess and he was an unworthy worshiper, and then she felt his lips and tongue all over her body, between her legs—Arjuna couldn’t think anymore. She could only focus on the man whose taste she’d die for—the man she hated with every fibre of her being, her dark sun of disaster and greed.

“My bed,” Karna whispered, soothingly, finally, fingering her between the legs, the smile audible in his voice, “now.”

She let him carry her bodily into his bed, and waited impatiently as he locked the door, and as he climbed on top of her, she pulled him by the hair and kissed him passionately, reverently. “I will kill you in the morning,” she said, in-between the kisses and the touches—she was wet already, and he was equally hard, “mark my words, Rider.”

“I know you will,” he said, smiling wryly, before he kissed her full on the lips, like lovers do.

* * *

**ANOTHER ENDING—**

Once, there was a warrior, and another warrior standing in his path. Once, there was a warrior, and his rival revealed her true identity in front of everyone, then carried her away to his gilded palace. Once, there was a warrior, and she was forced into committing a sin to free herself from a love she couldn’t bear, a man who has become something she couldn’t believe in, and a song of the gods that she couldn’t sing anymore.

Once, there was a warrior, a prince—and she fell in love.

In the morning, she woke up finding Karna, bare-chested, watching the sun rise over the stark landscape from the closed window, his fur coat, along with the rest of their clothes, scattered all over the floor from yesterday, and by her side—in the cramped Chaldean standard bed—a depression shaped like his body, smelt like him. 

“Karna,” she greeted, surprised at the ease in which her tongue wrapped around his name, like lovers do, and also at the _contentment_ she found herself in. “Good morning,” she said, shifting slightly. “Have you been awake long?”

He ignored her question, turning slightly and smiling at the sight of her waking up. “Good morning, Juna,” he greeted in return, “did you sleep well?”

“I did, surprisingly,” Arjuna said, raising an eyebrow, teasing him for a bit by moving around some more in his bed, showing off her naked curves. She finally settled into a comfortable position, body turned in his direction, the covers by her toes. “How about you?”

“Good,” he said, absently, distractedly, and Arjuna wonders why, before realising the _civility_ in which they conducted their conversation. “Aren’t you going to leave now? I have other people coming along,”

He tried to provoke her, tried to make her blood boil, but she merely smiled, letting her hair tease her ample breasts. “Oh? Who’s going to come?”

She knows that this time, she has the upper hand. She could see him swallow, hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Nobody,” he said, his gaze still distant.

“Come back to bed,” Arjuna breathed, couldn’t believe that she said to him, out of all the people—the _Servants_ —in Chaldea, but she felt— well, she felt unbothered, for the first time in a long time. At peace. And somehow that bothered Karna.

“I-“ Karna said, and stopped, staring at her. And then he laughed, a false, phoney laugh that sets her on edge. “Do you really believe all the shit I’ve said yesterday? All the sweet nothings?”

Arjuna narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re trying to provoke me on purpose—somehow—it’s not working, Karna.”

“Do you think _this_ works?” he said, harshly, gesturing at them broadly, the morning sun shining faintly behind him. “ _Us_?”

She bristled at the suggestion, but kept her cool. “We can make it work. And it doesn’t have to be—“ she quirked a smile at the thought, nearly laughed at it, “—a _relationship_. After all, I do not think that is what we’ve had the last time around.”

“You said you were going to stab me,” he said, alarmingly cool. Arjuna raised an eyebrow. “Where is it, Brutus? Aren’t you going to stab the tyrant? Or have I convinced you enough with my sweet nothings that I loved you, Arjuna? That somewhere in my twisted, dark heart, I had the space and the capacity to love you?”

Arjuna raised herself from the bed, naked, her hair like a dark waterfall, a dark omen falling away, walking into where he is. She reached out a hand to touch him, gently, by the cheek, like lovers do, and he flinched at her touch. “I’d still stab you,” she said, caressing his face gently, “but the truth is— when I did it, I was at my wit’s end. I could no longer bear being a disgrace not only to my mother but to my father, and the gods. You— well, you made a disgrace out of me. You _spoilt_ me. I thought by killing you, I could cleanse myself. But—“ she swallowed, letting her hand linger for a moment before pulling away, pulling him down to their knees, “—I couldn’t bear it. It was my only regret.”

Karna closed his eyes for a moment, and touched his forehead to hers. She held him, only barely, and she could feel herself being held, in turn. 

“—so that was the truth,” Karna said, touching his fingers lightly to her lips. “I never knew— when I was bleeding out, I really thought that you’d hated me, though there are glimpses of when I dared thought that it was otherwise. But yes, Arjuna, I deserve your hatred. I deserved _all_ your hatred. I humiliated you in front of everyone, revealed who you are, and claimed you. I went down the dark path that you refused to acknowledge. I am the man that you chose not to acknowledge. It was only fitting that I became the Avatar of Greed, I thought, after…after all that I have to endure. And with you, I finally have one thing I could proudly proclaim as mine, yet you refused me.”

“I was, at first,” Arjuna said, feeling tears welling up, “I hated you so much. But somewhere along the way I- I fell in love with you,” she looked away, feeling his fingertips wiping away her tears, “that is the truth, and I swear it by the gods.”

“Then, if you love me…” Karna said, pulling away, doubt and despair and something else in his eyes, the eyes-that-is-not-his, and yet, and yet, Arjuna felt herself in love with that, too, “will you do it again? I know we are Servants this time, but if you defeat me, I will die. Master obviously won’t order me to commit suicide, and I don’t want him to, but…if anyone could do it, it’s you, Arjuna, Hero of the Endowed. My equal.”

“But why?” Arjuna said, raising her gaze to meet his, although he avoided hers. “Why would you have me do that again, Karna?”

“I will tell you the truth,” he said, started pacing, “if your truth is that you love me and that you killed me out of your selfish desire to purify yourself—and out of the love that you bore for me—then my truth is that I couldn’t stand existing like this anymore,” he raked his fingers across his hair, “I- I went down this path because I thought I was doing the right thing for me for once, but I was wrong. I couldn’t stand it anymore, Juna. I could see the disgust in your eyes, and believe me, I see the same thing in the mirror everyday. No, I couldn’t bear this anymore,” he continued, and Juna let out a sob that she’s been holding, although she is regaining her composure, but still, she couldn’t help but feel shocked at what Karna said, “I couldn’t bear being a corrupted thing. My father—“ he looked out the window briefly, at the sun over the stark, white landscape, and Juna imagined she saw something crossed his face, only briefly, “—I wanted to return to him. I don’t know if he’d still accept me.”

Arjuna let a silence grow between them, as he stared at her expectantly, and she picked up his coat from the floor, throw it around herself and sat on the chair she sat on yesterday. She picked an imaginary thread from it before she opens her mouth again. Her tears had largely dried out, and now she couldn’t imagine crying in the first place. She simply felt numb. “So what would you have me do?”

“I did say,” Karna said, stopped pacing, “I want you to stab me. I don’t love you, Arjuna. What I’ve just told you are merely footnotes in my book of lies. Kill me, for I don’t deserve to live, not after what I did to the man you adored,” he continued, his eyes glinting once more with a challenge, “after what I did to the Hero of Benefaction. He deserved to be avenged.”

“I avenged him once,” Arjuna said, a tinge of sadness in her voice, wrapping Karna’s coat closer around her, “it was enough.”

“—so you’d let me live?”

“Yes,” Arjuna said, leaning forward to pull him in for a kiss, gentle like a morning dew, like lovers do. “A thousand times yes.”

“How cruel,” Karna said, smiling wryly, but he kissed her back nonetheless. “Now I have to live with the consequences.”

“It’s a small mercy,” Arjuna insisted, letting him kiss her hand. “You and me both, really.”

Once, there was a warrior who fell in love. Once, there was a warrior who broke the cycle, and she lived happily with the dark prince who carried her away.

Once, they afforded another ending for both of them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, comments and suggestions are welcome! <3
> 
> hmu @ twitter: raginghel


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